We’ll have to be very careful how we allow our needs to shape us.

Octavia Butler. Parable of the Sower

There are so many things to carry. Some are small things, some are big, ugly, unbearable things, some are distant, guilty, brittle pieces of someone else’s burden. Together, they make a load. A swarm of angry bees in my head. A reason why a cool sunny day seems dim and an Air quality index 2 air seems unbreathable. Everything is ok, everything is not ok, there is no way to speak about it without sounding dramatic or seeking attention or… so, the best thing is to walk, to step carefully, to concentrate on carrying myself and all I carry inside me, carefully. The best thing is to care about someone, anyone – a child, a friend, an animal, a stranger, oneself.

So many small and big things: leaving my child at school today almost made me cry, the news about Poltava, the news about German elections, the utter fragility of absolutely everything. No, I am not putting anything on a scale. No, I refuse to compare and compete. A heartbreak is a heartbreak is a heartbreak. A heart is big enough to carry it all.

I thought Parable of the Sower would depress me further, instead I find it comforting. Or maybe I just got to a better place in the book. I like how true it feels – at the same time beautiful and utterly cruel.

I am thinking about Shesheshen, the shapeshifting monster. Although I disliked the book, I am grateful I read it. I loved the descriptions of how Shesheshen moulds her physiology to accommodate her needs and limitations, how she forms her body around her wounds – the metaphors no doubt borrowed from author’s therapy sessions, but nonetheless true. We all shapeshift our bodies around our wounds, we all are sensitive objects ready to break at any moment.